En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Improvisations: Light And Snow: 10

It is night time, and cold, and snow is falling,
And no wind grieves the walls.
In the small world of light around the arc-lamp
A swarm of snowflakes falls and falls.
The street grows silent. The last stranger passes.
The sound of his feet, in the snow, is indistinct.
What forgotten sadness is it, on a night like this,
Takes possession of my heart?
Why do I think of a camellia tree in a southern garden,
With pink blossoms among dark leaves,
Standing, surprised, in the snow?
Why do I think of spring?
The snowflakes, helplessly veering,,
Fall silently past my window;
They come from darkness and enter darkness.
What is it in my heart is surprised and bewildered
Like that camellia tree,
Beautiful still in its glittering anguish?
And spring so far away!

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Improvisations: Light and Snow

I

The girl in the room beneath
Before going to bed
Strums on a mandolin
The three simple tunes she knows.
How inadequate they are to tell how her heart feels!
When she has finished them several times
She thrums the strings aimlessly with her finger-nails
And smiles, and thinks happily of many things.

II

I stood for a long while before the shop window
Looking at the blue butterflies embroidered on tawny silk.
The building was a tower before me,
Time was loud behind me,
Sun went over the housetops and dusty trees;
And there they were, glistening, brilliant, motionless,
Stitched in a golden sky
By yellow patient fingers long since turned to dust.

III

The first bell is silver,
And breathing darkness I think only of the long scythe of time.
The second bell is crimson,
And I think of a holiday night, with rockets
Furrowing the sky with red, and a soft shatter of stars.
The third bell is saffron and slow,
And I behold a long sunset over the sea
With wall on wall of castled cloud and glittering balustrades.
The fourth bell is color of bronze,
I walk by a frozen lake in the dun light of dusk:
Muffled crackings run in the ice,
Trees creak, birds fly.
The fifth bell is cold clear azure,
Delicately tinged with green:
One golden star hangs melting in it,
And towards this, sleepily, I go.
The sixth bell is as if a pebble
Had been dropped into a deep sea far above me . . .
Rings of sound ebb slowly into the silence.

IV

On the day when my uncle and I drove to the cemetery,
Rain rattled on the roof of the carriage;
And talkng constrainedly of this and that
We refrained from looking at the child's coffin on the seat before us.
When we reached the cemetery
We found that the thin snow on the grass
Was already transparent with rain;
And boards had been laid upon it
That we might walk without wetting our feet.

V

When I was a boy, and saw bright rows of icicles
In many lengths along a wall
I was dissappointed to find
That I could not play music upon them:
I ran my hand lightly across them
And they fell, tinkling.
I tell you this, young man, so that your expectations of life
Will not be too great.

VI

It is now two hours since I left you,
And the perfume of your hands is still on my hands.
And though since then
I have looked at the stars, walked in the cold blue streets,
And heard the dead leaves blowing over the ground
Under the trees,
I still remember the sound of your laughter.
How will it be, lady, when there is none left to remember you
Even as long as this?
Will the dust braid your hair?

VII

The day opens with the brown light of snowfall
And past the window snowflakes fall and fall.
I sit in my chair all day and work and work
Measuring words against each other.
I open the piano and play a tune
But find it does not say what I feel,
I grow tired of measuring words against each other,
I grow tired of these four walls,
And I think of you, who write me that you have just had a daughter
And named her after your first sweetheart,
And you, who break your heart, far away,
In the confusion and savagery of a long war,
And you who, worn by the bitterness of winter,
Will soon go south.
The snowflakes fall almost straight in the brown light
Past my window,
And a sparrow finds refuge on my window-ledge.
This alone comes to me out of the world outside
As I measure word with word.

VIII

Many things perplex me and leave me troubled,
Many things are locked away in the white book of stars
Never to be opened by me.
The starr'd leaves are silently turned,
And the mooned leaves;
And as they are turned, fall the shadows of life and death.
Perplexed and troubled,
I light a small light in a small room,
The lighted walls come closer to me,
The familiar pictures are clear.
I sit in my favourite chair and turn in my mind
The tiny pages of my own life, whereon so little is written,
And hear at the eastern window the pressure of a long wind, coming
From I know not where.

How many times have I sat here,
How many times will I sit here again,
Thinking these same things over and over in solitude
As a child says over and over
The first word he has learned to say.

IX

This girl gave her heart to me,
And this, and this.
This one looked at me as if she loved me,
And silently walked away.
This one I saw once and loved, and never saw her again.

Shall I count them for you upon my fingers?
Or like a priest solemnly sliding beads?
Or pretend they are roses, pale pink, yellow, and white,
And arrange them for you in a wide bowl
To be set in sunlight?
See how nicely it sounds as I count them for you --
'This girl gave her heart to me
And this, and this, . . . !
And nevertheless, my heart breaks when I think of them,
When I think their names,
And how, like leaves, they have changed and blown
And will lie, at last, forgotten,
Under the snow.

X

It is night time, and cold, and snow is falling,
And no wind grieves the walls.
In the small world of light around the arc-lamp
A swarm of snowflakes falls and falls.
The street grows silent. The last stranger passes.
The sound of his feet, in the snow, is indistinct.

What forgotten sadness is it, on a night like this,
Takes possession of my heart?
Why do I think of a camellia tree in a southern garden,
With pink blossoms among dark leaves,
Standing, surprised, in the snow?
Why do I think of spring?

The snowflakes, helplessly veering,,
Fall silently past my window;
They come from darkness and enter darkness.
What is it in my heart is surprised and bewildered
Like that camellia tree,
Beautiful still in its glittering anguish?
And spring so far away!

XI

As I walked through the lamplit gardens,
On the thin white crust of snow,
So intensely was I thinking of my misfortune,
So clearly were my eyes fixed
On the face of this grief which has come to me,
That I did not notice the beautiful pale colouring
Of lamplight on the snow;
Nor the interlaced long blue shadows of trees;

And yet these things were there,
And the white lamps, and the orange lamps, and the lamps of lilac were there,
As I have seen them so often before;
As they will be so often again
Long after my grief is forgotten.

And still, though I know this, and say this, it cannot console me.

XII

How many times have we been interrupted
Just as I was about to make up a story for you!
One time it was because we suddenly saw a firefly
Lighting his green lantern among the boughs of a fir-tree.
Marvellous! Marvellous! He is making for himself
A little tent of light in the darkness!
And one time it was because we saw a lilac lightning flash
Run wrinkling into the blue top of the mountain, --
We heard boulders of thunder rolling down upon us
And the plat-plat of drops on the window,
And we ran to watch the rain
Charging in wavering clouds across the long grass of the field!
Or at other times it was because we saw a star
Slipping easily out of the sky and falling, far off,
Among pine-dark hills;
Or because we found a crimson eft
Darting in the cold grass!

These things interrupted us and left us wondering;
And the stories, whatever they might have been,
Were never told.
A fairy, binding a daisy down and laughing?
A golden-haired princess caught in a cobweb?
A love-story of long ago?
Some day, just as we are beginning again,
Just as we blow the first sweet note,
Death itself will interrupt us.

XIII

My heart is an old house, and in that forlorn old house,
In the very centre, dark and forgotten,
Is a locked room where an enchanted princess
Lies sleeping.
But sometimes, in that dark house,
As if almost from the stars, far away,
Sounds whisper in that secret room --
Faint voices, music, a dying trill of laughter?
And suddenly, from her long sleep,
The beautiful princess awakes and dances.

Who is she? I do not know.
Why does she dance? Do not ask me! --
Yet to-day, when I saw you,
When I saw your eyes troubled with the trouble of happiness,
And your mouth trembling into a smile,
And your fingers pull shyly forward, --
Softly, in that room,
The little princess arose
And danced;
And as she danced the old house gravely trembled
With its vague and delicious secret.

XIV

Like an old tree uprooted by the wind
And flung down cruelly
With roots bared to the sun and stars
And limp leaves brought to earth --
Torn from its house --
So do I seem to myself
When you have left me.

XV

The music of the morning is red and warm;
Snow lies against the walls;
And on the sloping roof in the yellow sunlight
Pigeons huddle against the wind.
The music of evening is attenuated and thin --
The moon seen through a wave by a mermaid;
The crying of a violin.
Far down there, far down where the river turns to the west,
The delicate lights begin to twinkle
On the dusky arches of the bridge:
In the green sky a long cloud,
A smouldering wave of smoky crimson,
Breaks in the freezing wind: and above it, unabashed,
Remote, untouched, fierly palpitant,
Sings the first star.

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Beautiful Camellias

The camellias bloom in Winter when the skies are cold and gray
When the sun shines at it's weakest and the Spring seems far away
Each tree an individual by the shade of flowers they bear
An avenue of camellias of one shade of flowers more often than not rare.

In shades of pink and creams and reds the colours one might name
Each is an individual for no two look the same
The beautiful camellias resplendent in their flowers
They bloom in lawn and garden on Winter's coldest hours.

In late fall in Victoria in the Southern Hemisphere
The flower buds on camellia tell Winter days are near
And before the wattles come to bloom towards the end of July
The flowers on the camellia tree lose their petals and die.

The beautiful camellias bloom in the cold winter showers
And long before the southern spring they will have lost their flowers
And on June's coldest and wettest day great beauty I can see
A mass of pink flowers blooming on the green camellia tree.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Snow

in the snow i walk looking at everything coated in beautiful white
thoughts run through my head so many i cannot count
as i watch the snow fall i realize that its as beautiful as life itself
as i watch the snow fall i think of her and how i wish she could be beside me to see what i see just one last time
i cant help but wonder if she thought of me
in the snow there is something in the air i know i feel it so nice
there is something about the snow and the air that makes me think of you
as i get where i want to go
and step inside
snowflakes fall gentally off my hood
as i pound my feet the snow falls off and i become warm
the snow and ice that clazes me melts and falls
i know i will have to walk in the snow again

poem by Sandy Vanity
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Snowed In By A Warm Fire

A visit to an Inn on top of a hill.
A view, a valley, a village, a pond.
Snow already covering the ground.
Snow falling steadily all around.

The hills, the trees, the branches,
The drives, the roads, the highways.
All are covered in new fallen snow.
All are silent as the snow falls.

Snowflakes large, silent, slowly falling.
Snowflakes drifting, covering the ground.
Snow falling steadily through the day;
Snow falling steadily through the night.

Soon ankle deep, then up to your knees;
Soon three feet covers all there is.
Snowed in. The highways are closed.
Snowed in, as I wait by the warm fire.

poem by Joe Wocoski
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song Of The Evergreens

Listen to the briskly whistling winter evergreen
Whispering through the frozen morning light
And tell me whats to come
Saying my time is near
Never fear
I close each year
Im winter
Reminding me to trade my t-shirts for my woven wools
Trade my sandals for my skis
Whispered warnings in the wind
Saying soon come the dancing snowflakes
Theyre kissing every tree
Theyre kissing you and me
Please hurry
Falling
Dazzling dancing diamonds from the sky
Prisms
Rainbow sparkled flurries in our eyes
Whipping across the frozen crystal meadow
Pond of ice
Race the snow
Well build a warming fire there
And cuddle close and wine and dine
The setting sun
The morning light will find us high
Shooting down the glistening mountain side
Screaming through the whispering pines
The freedom of each day
Will cleanse our minds
I can hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
I can hardly hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow

song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As The Snow Falls (song)

As the rain falls down,
It turns to snow.
As the snow falls down,
It hits the ground.
You look outside,
And it’s a sheet of white.
So you think,
Oh what a beautiful night.
The fire is warm,
And the coco too.
And you wonder,
What is next to do?

Looking outside,
All you see is white,
And stars in the sky…ayyy.
The stars are falling,
The stars are falling,
And they cover the ground.
The snow has fallen,
Snow has fallen,
And it covers the ground.
You sit there,
Lookin’ out your window,
Sippin’ on your coco. Oh
Watching as the rain falls down-
The snow falls down-
The stars fall down.
And you see,
All of natures beauty.

The rain falls down,
And it turns to snow.
The snow falls down,
And it hits the ground.
Lookin’ outside,
And it’s a sheet of white.
you bundle up,
and step outside.
standing in the cold,
you look around.
its all so calm and still.
Oh there’s not a single sound.

It’s a silent night,
Oh what a sight.
Snow covers the trees,
So beautiful to see.
Back inside you go
To the fire you stand,
With coco in hand.
You’re cozy and warm,
All alone.
It’s getting late,
So you sleep the night away.

As the rain fell down,
It turned to snow.
As the snow fell down,
It hit the ground.
And the sheet of white,
It disappeared.
The next day you wake,
And the beauty is gone.
The morning sun,
Thawed the lawn.
And the snowy wondrous night is done.

poem by Tessa Monaghan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh unchanging tree

Such a beautiful thing Is a tree.
In summer, in winter, in spring, in fall
the beauty of a tree, doesn't change at all

The leaves fall to the ground
all the richest beautiful color
can be found

The snow falls
but it doesn't hurt the tree,
it just lays on it's branches
like frosting on a cake

Then it gets warm, the snow melts.
Say goodbye to to winter, say hello to sping.
New life is such a beautiful thing

But so is the tree, the beautiful mighty tree.
That stands alone as the seasons pass
as when you were old or just a lass.

A tree must have a heart, because when it falls to the ground.
No Joy can be found..

So when you see a tree say hello, they can get lonely you know.
Tell them a story, tell them a poem, they will listen.
This I know

poem by Summer Song
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Snow on snow

Snow on snow
Flakes gently falling
Like leaves from a tree
Asking permission
Before they land
On the snowflakes underneath
Each one different
Like leaves on a tree
A white carpet
Pure white till soiled
By children’s shoes
They love its touch
Ooo snowball fights
Snow doesn’t hurt
Snow is soft and forgiving
People hurt
They are selfish and cruel
So let it snow
Snow on snow on

poem by James Hart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Snow Is Falling

Snow is falling: snow is falling.
Geranium flowers reach
for the blizzard’s small white stars
past the window’s edge.

Snow is falling, all is lost,
the whole world’s streaming past:
the flight of steps on the back stairs,
the corner where roads cross.

Snow is falling: snow is falling,
not snowflakes stealing down,
Sky parachutes to earth instead,
in his worn dressing gown.

As if he’s playing hide-and-seek,
across the upper landings,
a mad thing, slowly sneaks,
Sky creeps down from the attic.

It’s all because life won’t wait,
before you know, it’s Christmas here.
And look, in a minute,
suddenly it’s New Year.

Snow is falling, deeper – deeper.
Maybe, with that same stride
in that same tempo,
with that same languor,

Time’s going by?

Year after year, perhaps,
passing, as snow’s falling,
like words in a poem?
Snow’s falling: snow’s falling.
Snow is falling, all is lost –
the whitened passers-by,
leaves’ startled showing,
the corners where roads cross.

poem by Boris Pasternak
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A Winter's Delight

The snow was falling from the sky,
Skillfully concealing the land once more
With a variety of glimmering snowflakes,
The shapes and forms never seen before.

The snow was falling from the sky,
So beautiful, the vault of pearl white
Made it appear as if the world were new.
It was a scene that made it an artist's delight.

The snow was falling from the sky,
Enchanting the land with a glistening snow.
Nature's wildlife leaving a visible trail
That vanished as the wind began to blow.

The snow was falling from the sky,
And in my caring and sensitive heart,
I marveled at the wonders of nature
Of which we are a genuine part.

The snow has ceased falling from the sky,
As elated children rush to their favorite site
To build snowcastles, forts, and snowmen
Before the emerging of a cold, winter night.

poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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First Snow Is A Lonely Thing

First snow
is a lonely
thing

First times
Forevers
Lovers
forgotten
beyond
the beyond

Once here
Now gone

First thought
of eventually
burns

Buried deep below
in seizures of snow

A thousand
snowflakes
deep
Blink
bright
across
this sea
Frozen
blue

Speak to me
Speak of you

This cold
blue
creed
Star
cracked
sky

Blue ore
cold
First snow
Lonely

The sound of you
long gone
Blowing through

Clear and cold
and beautiful
A thought
lost
somewhere
for good

If I could
I would
remember
That cold blue
A different
December

Thoughts moving at the speed of light
like first snows and seasons past
A thousand snowflakes
Falling
Calling

Nothing lasts
Nothing lasts

poem by Ari' Anna Arena
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Snow

when the snow is just starting to fall,
the people are happy to play all day,
the views are different and days are short,
the nights are long,
the snow at day is white and pure,
the night time snow glistens with colour,
like dancing fairies having fun,
the snow that falls,
the boredom sets in,
when the snow goes the spring is due,
the first born lamds,
the leaves on the brown bark,
of the old tall trees

poem by Sharron Stephenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Playing In The Snow

Watching snowflakes silently falling,
Children find extremely enthralling.
They stand with mouths open in awe,
As, though the air, snowflakes soar.

When children first see snow outside,
Their excitement, they just cannot hide.
Through the air, the snowflakes swirl,
Delighting every little boy and girl.

They put on their coats and their scarves,
And the air is filled with joyous laughs.
Their pink, rosy cheeks are all aglow,
As they fashion men made of snow.

They love the way that the snow glints,
And love making trails of fresh footprints.
Despite snow being so wet and cold,
Handfuls of it, they just love to hold.

On a sledge, they slide down a hill.
They never seem to mind the chill.
Many children find much delight
In taking part in a snowball fight.

The cold chills their fingers and toes;
It chills their ears and their nose.
Freezing conditions, they happily bear,
And they all play on, without a care.

poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Snowflakes Falling

Snowflakes, falling, from miraculous heights.
Snowflakes, falling, on a cold winter's night.

Snowflakes, falling, airy and light.
Snowflakes, falling, on a cold winter's night.

Snowflakes, falling, a blanket of white.
Snowflakes, falling, on a cold winter's night.

Snowflakes, falling, crystalline delight.
Snowflakes, falling, on a cold winter's night.

poem by Ben Payton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When The Snow Came

The snow started here, at about half past four;
Lightly, at first, but then it fell more and more.
Upon spying the first few flakes, I rushed to the shop;
The snow began to settle, but I hoped that it may stop.

But it continued to fall, creating a blanket of white;
Till snowflakes coated everything within my sight.
By nightfall, the world was bathed in an eerie glow,
Created by the bright reflection of the fallen snow.

Against the orange glow of a nearby street light,
I could see flakes falling, and swirling in flight.
Overnight, heavy snow had been forecast to fall,
But, luckily, for us, we had no extra snow at all.

I awoke in the morning, and saw patches of green,
And clear rectangles, where parked cars had been.
The snow was not half as bad, as I had anticipated;
I knew the snow would soon melt, and I felt elated.

The day brightened up and, very soon, the sun shone;
In almost no time at all, much of the snow was gone.
By midday, we were well into the very welcome thaw;
I’m hoping that, for a while, we won’t have any more.

Snow can create many amazing, picturesque scenes,
But walking through it, when it’s icy, I’m not so keen.
Whenever snow is predicted, I feel panic in my heart,
And I feel glad whenever the snow decides to depart.

poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Snow

See the snow
Its a blanket, soft and white
Falling slow
Covering the world, making it bright

Hear the snow
Crunching underneath feet
Children throw
The snow in the street

Smell the snow
The freshening scent
As the steady flow
Makes my heart content

Feel the snow
Powdery, it freezes your toes
As the blanket starts to grow
And the cold wind blows

Taste the snow
The way it makes the world look clean
Still cold though,
Makes the world, a beautiful scene

Love the snow
When I see it snowing all day
I just know
That everything is going to be okay

poem by Katniss Everdeen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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WInter Wonderland

The snow flakes come falling in the winter wonderland
I catch them all in my hand
But then I fall in the snow
Then the snowflakes start to fall slow

Then the angels come from above
And they bring all sorts of loving doves
They lift me up out of the snow
So I won't catch a cold

Now it's dark not so bright
It is turning day from night
I go inside and go to bed
Now in this winter wonderland

poem by Kayla Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Enigmatically Truthful

Day begins with night; Yet shadows do not stay;
With the breaking of dawn, darkness flees away.
We observe as the wind twists limbs of a tree;
Yet enigmatically the wind itself we can't see.
Snow falls; melts into the river; flows to the sea;
Heat pulls it back into the air; again snow it'll be.
Water runs downhill and will at its course stay;
Carving through stone; mountains eating away.
Animals hop and leap the moment life's begun,
Yet a human takes some years to walk and run.
Truly into a forest you can walk only half way;
For then you will be walking out or there stay.
If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around,
Although no one hears it, it still makes a sound,
In reality a bell is an ornament until it is rung,
Of a truth a song is just words until it is sung,
A word is thought until it is penned or spoken;
For up until then it is only an unformed token.
GOD does not permit love in your heart to stay,
Knowing that love cannot be until given away!

poem by Joseph Blitch
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Snow falls in spring

snow falls, winter starts.
We walk and have fun
But soon to be cold.
We now search for shelter.

Snow falling, Its winter
still to find our shelter
we need from the cold.

Snow remains, Its winter
were leaveing our shelther
we made from the snow,
But we remain cold.

Snow fell, Its over
spring has now started
Its warm and peaceful.
Our shelter is gone we
no longer need it
Spring has now started.

poem by Micheal Weston
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ode On Snow

Snowstorms!
Piles of snow!
Soft, crystalline white snowflakes!
Feathered rain!
Powder snow!
Falling snow!
Up to the kneecaps snow!
Snow stuck on sidewalks and streets!
Snowballs!
Snowmen!
Snowdrift!
Sledding on soft snow!
Crunching snow!
Snow cones!

poem by M.L. Squier
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